Tinder-izing the Meat

Oh Tinder…

So you can tenderize meat a couple of different ways.  The two that I know of are using this special powder stuff that you can buy in the spice aisle at the grocery store.  The other method is beating the cut of meat with a special two-sided hammer.

Dating in The Junkyard has been akin to the latter tenderizing method.  Tinder is exceptionally difficult.  Flocks of allegedly eligible young men pass through every weekend.  It is The Grand Junction between Denver and Salt Lake City.  It is en route to many a playground, including Zion, Moab, Bryce, Rocky Mountains, I-70 corridor, Durango…etc.

I can always tell if someone is from out of town because I’m attracted to them.

So back to the tenderizing analogy.  Every weekend I am being hit repeatedly with a hammer of guys that are unattainable…because, let’s face it, long distance relationships are painful and have such a low probability of success.

The thought of telling my potential children that I met their father on Tinder also bothers me.  I will take responsibility for the fact that I am not putting much effort into meeting people…well, guys. And I do have an interesting dilemma.  So there are a couple guys:

Guy 1: I met him when I was super drunk on my birthday.  My sister randomly hollered at these guys passing by my backyard and invited them over.  Found out one of them was my neighbor and Guy 1 lived fairly close.  Months later I made a pretty aggressive move (maybe I’ll go into more detail in a later post) after drinking quite a bit of sake.  I did not get what drunk me wanted.  Anyhow, we remained friends.  Sometimes he just drops by on the weekend.  He gave me his couch and some other furniture.  #IDKmyBFFJill…  Last time he was here he said some cryptic things along the lines of “I don’t know if you’re worth it.”  And I’m like “Worth what?”…but I didn’t say that.

Guy 2:  I met Guy 2 while out on the town and checking his friend out (who turned out to not be single). Apparently I showed some people how to upside down wall twerk.  Somehow he found me on Facebook.  We both work in mental health, so we share a common language which is nice because I miss that from grad school.  But… and it is a big butt, I’m not even a little bit attracted to him.  I don’t think I will ever be.  He is kind, he likes hanging out with me, and he, so far, has been very respectful of my personal space.  We have some common ground.  However, he is not very outdoorsy/athletic.  He also has swollen gums which signals a lack of care for self.  That concerns me despite my own tendencies towards self-neglect.  Also, many of his friends are pretty heavy into the downtown drug and music scene… and that is not me.

Looking at this now, I kind of see that potentially what I am doing to Guy 2 is what Guy 1 is doing to me.  Hanging out when it is convenient, genuinely enjoying the person, but not wanting to be intimately attached to the person.

Damn.  Thoughts?

Ghirar-delegating

Here’s the deal:  I hate asking for help.  It is painful for me.  I don’t mind asking for “help” if in fact that help is going to help the person that I am asking to help me.  Follow?  Like, I don’t mind tricking other people into helping themselves by using the guise of me needing help.  But when I actually, truly (sometimes desperately) need help… I chafe at the idea, especially when I don’t think that I should have to ask.

My dislike of asking for help became most apparent this past month due to a benign tumor (enchondroma) being removed from inside my left pinky knuckle bone and a bone graft taken from my wrist to fill the tumor hole.  For a week the painkillers blunted my ability to do much except lay on a couch and nap.  Thankfully I have wonderful parents who could take time off to care for me.

I cleared the drug-induced haze, constipation (yuck), and pain, but I have limited strength and mobility in my left hand.  I can’t submerge it in water…so dishes and bathing have been difficult.  Chopping food. Putting on sports bras.

You name it.  It’s difficult.

Being incapacitated exposed some distinctions between some friends that I made here and in my past.  Those who “showed up” unsolicited and those who did not.  Part of me recognizes that this tendency may be a part of their core personality. I see this personality trait reflected in their chosen profession.  The people who “showed up” with food, company, etc. all work in the human service industry and the one’s who did not work in the science industry.

I could spend a long time talking about my childhood and the relationship I have with my father, but one of the main lessons I internalized from him is, “Anticipate!”  My father also struggles, sometimes, with delegating, specifically the clarifying instructions.  Many times it would just come down to him yelling “Anticipate!”  And by that he meant, “Assess the situation.  Where do you fit in? How can you be helpful?”

It’s a valuable skill.  To see what is happening, and then, instead of having to be given specific instructions, you just fill the gaps i.e. it’s hot out, people’s water bottles are looking low, and you just fill them…without being asked to; someone is struggling to carry an awkward box, you step in to help without being asked; your friend just had hand surgery and was nice enough to lend you a paddle board and run shuttle for you, you help her load her board back into the car, instead of waiting until she already has it in her good hand to ask if she needs help.  Assess the situation.  Anticipate.

Obviously that last example was personal.  And not fair.  I tell people all the time, “Don’t hesitate to ask for help.”  But I would like to make the distinction between seen and unseen need for help.  Most of the people that I say the above to may be in need of help that I cannot identify because it is an internal need.

Anyhow, for those who showed up, brought food, hung out, etc… thank you.  Thank you for not forcing me to ask for help.  Thank you for recognizing that everything was difficult.  Thank you for letting me “delegate” during the making of Ghirardelli brownie making.